


The Tide

by snapegirl



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8237708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapegirl/pseuds/snapegirl
Summary: It takes me away from you, and it brings me back again. - XYLØ, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue SeaA proper goodbye, and a promise.





	1. Chapter 1

Ric was just walking out of the hospital towards his car when a hand grasped his forearm and dragged him in the opposite direction to the carpark. He whipped his head around and caught sight of a fluttering of floral silk.

“I need a drink,” Serena said with her face away from him.

“And I have anything to do with it because…?” he spluttered but he let her drag him to Albies’ nevertheless.

He knew something was not quite right with her when she rocked on her heels for a second outside the pub before going in as if she was bracing herself for something.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened, people were naturally attracted by motion and sound so they were going to look up whenever someone entered the pub. He looked around and they went back to their original drinking and chatting.

Serena went for the same seats at the bar they had been last time they were in the pub together. It wasn’t until she brusquely ordered in a hoarse voice a whisky for him and a bottle of shiraz _with a shot of vodka_ for her that it occurred to him that something was truly wrong.

That woman never drank hard liquor in their a little more than four years of their friendship.

“What’s wrong, Serena?” he asked as he looked sideways at her red and bloodshot eyes.

She flicked a glance at him and turned back to stare blankly at the glass before filling it to the brim and downing it with the vodka.

“Serena,” Ric sighed. “You are clearly upset. Last week you were buoyant… like a balloon.”

He got a scoff in return. “Is that your Uncle Ric way of trying to get me to talk?”

“Is it working?”

“I can’t.” Serena fiddled with the stem of her glass. “It will just make more - real.” She choked slightly on the last word.

While he knew he has to press on and not let her close up, she was also a stubborn woman who might just _shatter_ if he pressed too hard. So he kept to his whisky.

“Bernie, she is gone.” she started after her third glass of shiraz and her fourth shot of vodka. “To Ukraine.”

“How long are we talking about? Days? Weeks?” If one of best Trauma surgeons in Holby has just resigned, he would’ve know by now.

“Months.”

“And you didn’t get to tell her how you really feel?” He watched as tears beginning to fill her eyes and the grip on the wine glass tightened. “You told her – ”

“ – and she still left.” She raised her hand to order another vodka.

The bartender, a petite blonde girl, shared a knowing look with Ric and surreptitiously put a shot glass under the water tap instead.

Serena suddenly tipped sideways and her head landed on his shoulder, whispering, “I love her so much and she thought that I still need to _think_ about it. I have not stopped thinking for weeks. About it, about _her.”_

“Maybe she needs time too.” he said while looking down at his friend’s pinched expression.

That’s when he saw gold and green appeared and promptly vanished at the entrance.

“I will be right back. Stay put.” He made sure Serena was not going to tip in any directions again. “Don’t plant your face in glasses.”

She found that hilariously funny as she let out a high-pitched giggle. “Maybe I should get a garden pot!”

“What?” He really should ignore her before it was too late.

“Plant!” She exclaimed before laying her head on her arm and examine the glass of wine as if it was more interesting than a mere drink.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her idiosyncrasy.

“Don’t worry, you are getting your girl back,” he murmured before running out of the pub without his coat.

Luckily, the woman he was looking for hadn’t gone far.

“Bernie!”

He was sure she could hear him but she didn’t stop.

“Ms Wolfe, please stop!” This time, she did, right under a street lamp.

“Well, I cannot disobey such a polite request, can I?” He could see her clenching her jaws and spit out. “You two are going to be really happy together. Excuse me but I have things to pack.”

“I know about you two.” He said before she could take another step.

Bernie whipped around and stalked towards him. “I don’t know what you are trying to imply here, Mr Griffin but our personal lives are none of your business and if you _dare_ to make her life difficult while I am away, yours won’t be that dandy either. Are we clear?” she said, a scant inch between them with her towering over him.

“Oh, so you do care about her.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What?” She stepped backwards, giving back his personal space.

“Francoise Yeats. Serena told me about you after that day. Look, I have no idea what happened today but I do know that she has drunk herself stupid, on vodka no less, because you left. Don’t you think you owe her at least a proper goodbye if you are really that set on going?”

She searched his face to find any inkling of jest and when she found none, she said, “She doesn’t even touch whisky.”

“Yet there she is, four shots of vodka and about to demolish a bottle of shiraz on her own.” he pointed back towards Albies heatedly, then he took a deep breath to calm himself. “I am leaving her in your care. Take her home, don’t leave her more heart-broken than she already is.”

With that, he walked past her and towards the hospital ground, getting his keys out of his trousers pocket. He felt elated, something that saving lives today simply didn’t produce. His good mood diminished slightly as he remembered.

_Oh bugger I left my jacket in the pub._

–

It felt like a cliche, watching Serena slumping on the bar with an empty glass in her hand. With a man standing almost too close to her.

“You…!”

Before she got within range to throw him out of the pub, someone bumped into him and poured half a pint of beer down the back of his trousers.

Clara.

Serena and she came to Albies’ so many times that she had known all the bartenders’ name by now and they all knew Serena and her as frequent drinking buddies.

“Oh I am so sorry sir! The toilet’s that way, you can clean up there,” Clara said with an overly dramatic way.

Bernie hid her smile as she stepped between the man and Clara. “Beer stain is notoriously difficult to clean, perhaps you should leave.” She gave him a dangerous smile and he slunk off.

“I was wondering where you have been.” Clara smiled slightly and went back behind the bar. Bernie nodded silently in thanks.

“You are not Ric Griffin,” Serena said when Bernie sat in Ric’s original seat.

“Very observant.” She watched Serena turned towards her and squinted at her for what felt like an extensive time.

“I must be dreaming,” Serena said firmly before nodding to herself and repeated herself. “I am dreaming. Mind you, I dream about you a lot anyways.”

Their eyes met, a pair of droopy, bloodshot and puffy eyes gazing into a pair that was rapidly filling up with tears.

“Let’s get you home,” Bernie murmured lowly.

“Okay,” Serena replied in the same soft tone she did while scrubbing out today but that heart-stopping smile was no longer there.

She was responsible for that.

Taking the jacket from the back of her stool, she draped it over Serena’s shoulders in addition to her own to fend off the ambient September weather. Serena really didn’t need to add pneumonia to the list of her problems.

She bore most of Serena’s weight as they walked to Bernie’s car. Unlike yesterday night, Serena was so drunk now she didn’t have enough consciousness to become frisky.

It’s a good thing, Bernie supposed, last night became more of an exercise of self-control as the night progressed as Serena completely disregarded their personal space and got closer and closer _and impossibly closer._ As Bernie drove Serena back to her own home, trapped in the small space of her sports car, her perfume saturated the car and very nearly transported her back to less than 24 hours ago.

_Very nearly._

The weight of what she did today dragged her back to the present. She looked at Serena’s slumbering face at the traffic light, rosy because of the alcohol, and remembered. The giddy face that simply couldn’t hold back the mirth after they have kissed, the excited and slightly nervous face when they discussed dinner; it turned sour when her mind inevitably turned to her crest-fallen and desperate faces as she told her the decision to leave for Ukraine.

Bernie stood by her choice, even now. Serena needed time and space but so did her, and she was too much of a coward to tell her that before running away.

Keeping on driving until she had reached Serena’s home, she took her inside and up towards the master bedroom.

Serena was now fully asleep now, gentle snoring came from her at regular interval. She didn’t know where did the notion of people sleeping without a care in the world come from but it was obviously not true, Serena looked drawn and tired.

Carefully, she extracted her coat, overshirt and shoes from her. Bernie debated a little longer on what to do with the trousers because obviously, she would overheat with the duvet. In the end, she took them off quickly, clinically and tucked her in immediately.

As she made her way downstairs, Bernie knew from her heart she couldn’t leave her alone. Griffin was right, Serena deserved closure.

The tiny snag of her inability to fall asleep didn’t bother her in the slightest, but damn.

She hated the sunrise for the first time in her entire life.

–

Serena cursed the sunshine as soon as it hit her right in the face.

_Why didn’t she close the blinds when she was preparing for bed?_

As soon as the question entered her brain, she suddenly remembered that… she remembered nothing. Not how she left Albies, not how she got home or got into bed.

Or the state of her clothing.

She still had her pants on so she probably didn’t randomly hook up with strangers like some rowdy F1. Small mercies. She did have a monumental headache and every part of her body felt stiff and heavy.

The make-up from yesterday was still on her face, she could feel it slightly caking on her cheek and eyelids so she navigated blindly towards the en-suite to splash some water on her face, just enough to make her at least see what’s in front of her.

And it wasn’t pleasant.

“Good god, I look horrendous. What the hell happened last night?” she muttered to the mirror then immediately winced at the scratchy, gravel-like sound from her throat.

Her mind was drawing an enormous blank but at the same time, three things float to the front: raw eggs, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce. Her head already felt less foggy with that. Pulling on a warm pair of pyjamas trousers, she slowly walked towards the kitchen, taking extra care with the stairs least she tripped and gave herself a brain damage.

Serena said a prayer of thanks as she remembered Jason wasn’t home, she was getting too close to the batty aunt stereotype.

“Jesus, that hurts,” she groaned when she bent down to get the sauces from a cabinet and her head throbbed like a hammer repeated smashing into her skull.

“Four vodkas and a bottle of shiraz tend to do that.” A voice that she never thought she would hear, not for the rest of the year, the voice that made her whole body ache.

Bernie.

Serena narrowed missed the edge of the counter when she straightened up but a wave of vertigo overcame her and swayed backwards into a solid chest, with distinct features that signified who she thought they were.

“Careful, what are you trying to do anyway?” The hold, the warmth felt so real when Serena was led to a chair and lowered into it.

“You haven’t tried my hangover cure, have you?” she said lightly.

“Can’t say that I have, let me do that for you, tell me.”

She saw Bernie frowning at the ingredients but she couldn’t care less at the moment, she needed the headache gone.

Serena watched her out of the corner of her eyes as she drank from the glass. Bernie stood silently at the edge of the counter, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

Draining the glass, she said, “So I wasn’t dreaming last night.”

“You thought you were, yes.”

A sense of dread worm its way down to her stomach. “What else did I say?”

“Nothing much really, you were out like a light by the time I got you into the car.”

The dread was replaced by relief, so much that she blurted, “You carried me from the car into the house onto my bed. Bridal style?” She immediately hid her blushing face behind the glass only to remember it was emptied moments ago.

Surprisingly, Bernie let out a startled laugh and said with a smirk. “You wish, Fireman’s lift. I need a hand free to unlock the door.”

Serena could not help but gave her a slight smile as well. They looked into each other’s eyes across the table but the memory of yesterday soon tore the comfortable silence apart.

“Why are you here?” She realised only too late that Bernie was still in the same clothes as yesterday and they didn’t look slept in at all. “You stayed here all night. Awake.”

“I can’t possibly leave you here on your own.”

“You can. You have.”

“I failed you yesterday. There has to be a proper goodbye.”

“You are still going then,” the brief flicker of hope in her chest spluttered out in seconds and she stated the fact listlessly.

Bernie winced at the tone, it didn’t bring Serena any satisfaction.

“I phoned Hanssen, he didn’t really appreciate being woken up at 5 in the morning but he agreed to my reasoning that 12 weeks is too long.” Serena looked on with her mouth open as Bernie found the ceiling fascinating.

“So what is it now?” She gripped the glass hard until her knuckles turned white.

“A month. I will be there to set up and as soon as they gained traction, my job is done.”

She had never been convicted and sentenced before but this must be what it felt like to hear a sentence being reduced. The breath she let out was more than just air, it was all the unshed tears of Bernie leaving her in the middle of the ward, the encompassing pressure and horror of what she did to drove her away releasing in one single exhale.

“I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I can’t leave you that long.” Bernie’s voice suddenly started right beside her.

She jumped but calmed down immediately when she saw her was crouching beside her so that they were at the same eye level.

“The Trauma Unit. That was what you meant, I presume.” She tried to say off-handedly.

“No.” Bernie was staring straight into her eyes, unwavering. “You.”

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Except that I do.” Bernie gently extracted the glass from her grasp and hold her hand. “I ask you to really think about what you truly want because I have been there myself, in your place, I _know_ it will crash and burn if we don’t do this properly. This isn’t the army anymore so we have all the time in the world to make this work.”

Serena squeezed back with all her might.

“Do what you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do. Come back, and be mine again.”

“Roger that.” Bernie reached up and plant a firm kiss on her forehead. She stood up and gave Serena’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I’ll see you out.” Serena felt the tears slipped but did nothing about them.

They walked to the front door with Bernie outside and Serena inside.

“This feels so wrong.” Serena’s voice croaked, from the hangover she was sure. “It’s like sending you out to war.”

“For once I did the right thing, I have given you a proper goodbye, and now I am going to give you a promise, I will be back. To the unit, the ward, to you.”

With that, she kissed Serena on the cheek, a lingering one on the soft skin, and walked to her car. Serena shuddered against the chill but still stood there until the car had left her sight before going back into the cold, empty house but with a heart that was no longer that.


	2. Chapter 2

From: Bernie Wolfe

_I am back. Plane just landed. x_

Serena cradled her phone to her chest as she got the message, four weeks was a torture. They have kept communication to a bare minimum at Bernie’s request, modern technology was a great thing but it would defeat the point of Bernie going all the way to Kiev.

To: Bernie Wolfe

_Can’t wait to see you back at the hospital. Be safe. x_

When the red phone rang, all she could think of was how gleeful Bernie would be when the first thing she returned to Holby was to get herself elbow deep in a trauma laparotomy, to be a team again.

It turned into nothingness when it was _her_ on the trolley _._

“What the hell happened?” she asked Raf who was rolling her into the ward in a shaky voice.

“Serena…” Raf trailed off, warning her off the case just as he warned her off her mother’s case.

“No. You tell me right now what happened!” She demanded as they went into the trauma bay. “She’s not even responsive. Pathology, now.”

He shared an exasperated look with Fletch before capitulating, “Her car swerved at the outskirt of Holby and crashed into a wall. It’s not looking good - ” He was interrupted by a sharp bark.

“Mr di Lucca! This patient needs our clinical skills, not sentiment or personal opinion, start again.”

“Maybe I should call Mr Hanssen.” Fletch started but he was dismissed as well.

“You do that. Mr di Lucca, _start again.”_

She pretended not to see Raf giving him a minuscule nod while he reported the trauma, pretending as if it wasn’t their boss, their colleague and their friend lying there.

Her love.

“Berenice Wolfe, 51, involved in a low-speed RTC, car swerved and hit a wall. She was able to climb out to call for an ambulance, complaining of significant abdo pain and lost consciousness when the paramedics arrived. Able to self-maintain airway throughout with good bilateral lung sounds.”

“Head injury?” She moved up to check her pupils, gripping the penlight with white knuckles when she saw those eyes that had melted her in seconds were now motionless. “Pupils reacting equally and normally.” She let herself breathed out only slightly harder than usual.

“No significant broken bones, Heart rate at 120, BP continuing to drop, GCS 12, Sats 98%, FAST scan positive for a moderate amount of free fluid in the abdomen.” Raf continued to list out the injuries.

“Theatre.” She instructed decisively. “Trauma laparotomy.”

“Wait, we don’t know if she is haemodynamically stable enough for surgery. Let’s get an FBC, clotting, group and save, cross-match 2 units and 1 platelets,” Raf said to a nurse

“Why don’t we get a CT and X-ray done while we are at it? She needs to be in theatre ASAP!”

“And she will!” Raf argued back heatedly. “But we wouldn’t want her bleeding out on the table because we haven’t been thorough enough!” He blanched when Serena’s eyes widened in terror.

“You take that back.” She was about to open her mouth to unleash more anger on him, to reassure herself, that Bernie will be fine, that she would make it fine but Hanssen chose this moment to make his appearance.

“This trauma bay is not a place for fear,” he said and turned his gaze to Serena. “Or sentiment for that matter, please leave if you think you are harbouring either of those.”

No one moved.

“Right, let us begin. Mr di Lucca, order the tests and fast track them at my request. I need an abdominal ultrasound as well.”

People started to scramble into action, following Hanssen’s direction. Serena stood at the end of the bed, at a loss of what to do. She felt a pressure at her elbow, she looked up to Hanssen’s concerned face.

“Are you a hundred percent certain you can handle this?”

Sometimes she forgot that Hanssen knew. But it was always questions like that that made her want to do it even more, she didn’t need pity from him, not now.

“Yes I am,” she replied. Her chin was tilted upwards, an act of confidence and defiance.

“Very well, I would like you to handle the ultrasound, please.”

Her eyes were on the monitor but her mind was elsewhere.

_I can’t believe I am touching your skin, despite the circumstances. It has been too long._

“Mr Hanssen, if you could take a look at this, spleen?” She turned the screen towards him. He stood there, scrutinising it then gave the instruction of prepping her for theatre.

“You would be assisting me, Ms Campbell. See you on the ice.”

Serena was left alone, apart from the anaesthetist who was now sedating and intubating her. With a shared nod between them, she lifted Bernie’s hand and held it delicately within both of hers.

“You are an idiot. A grade A idiot, now I am just going to have to save you and say it to your face when you wake up.” She was sure it was her imagination that the grip grew tighter ever so slightly. Raf walked in while she was inspecting every callous on her palm.

“Ms Campbell?”

“Yes.” She didn’t let go of her hand.

“All tests came back within normal range, Mr Hanssen is ready for her, you should scrub in as well.” He tried for a reassuring smile but it was wobbling on its way into a grimace. “Serena…”

She took one last look at Bernie and gave the hand one last squeeze.

“She’ll be fine,” she muttered as she walked past Raf towards theatre.

“Yes.”

Serena stepped into the scrubbing room to find Hanssen waiting for her.

“Please remember you are here in an assisting capacity, any attempt to take control and you will be asked to leave.”

“I am a Senior Consultant with more than 10 years’ standing, I can handle a splenectomy.” She gritted her teeth, just because she was in love didn’t mean she would turn into a gibberish wreck in surgery.

“You, however, are not familiar with the innovative surgical technique that Mr Mayfield was involved in developing.” He left the sink and got into the smock.

“The spleen mesh bag?” She looked into the back of him in surprise. “And is this where you are supposed to tell me that you are an expert in it?”

“No, not really.” He held up his hand before she could interrupt. “We are not performing this laparoscopically therefore I have confidence that I will perform this successfully.”

“You are ready to trail a new surgical technique on a day like today, on my - ” Serena stopped herself, before she could say anything that she wasn’t sure or that she would regret. “My colleague, a well-loved colleague?”

That, she could be certain.

“If it would save her spleen, yes.” He swept into theatre with that statement.

She watched Bernie being wheeled as she continued to scrub her forearms.

_She promised to be back, but never like this._

_This is my fault._

_She will be safe; I will save her._

All the thoughts started blending into one constant, never-ending white noise. Everything felt mechanical all of a sudden: the patting of tissue on her arms, the texture of the gloves and smock when she put them on, the footsteps of walking towards the table and standing over it.

_“We can do this.”_

She blinked and looked up to Hanssen. His eyes were inquisitive. “Everything alright, Ms Campbell?”

That voice, those words… They definitely did not belong to Henrik Hanssen. Unless he has blonde hair and gave her a promise on her doorstep a month ago.

“Yes, we can do this.” She picked up the scalpel and handed it to him.

“Indeed we will,” he replied and took the knife with a bemused tilt of his head.

Her hands were steady as she worked the suction tube, tying the purse string around the mesh bag, checking there were no other internal damage and then closing her up. Not a knot was tied wonkily, not a staple was out of place.

If she had slowed down just a bit, she would have noticed her hands started trembling faintly when she opened the sponge for scrubbing out; she would have noticed that her legs were too shaky and unsteady to be walking in a straight line towards her office.

By the time she closed the door behind her it was too late to stop the wrecking sobs and the full-body tremor as she curled up under her desk, hugging her knees towards her chest and burying the tears on her scrubs.

She did not hear the door open but she saw the blur of a light blue scrubs moving towards her until it was crouching in front of her.

“Serena?” _Raf._

She only shook her head vigorously, her only other option was to cry harder. He joined her under the table.

“It’s devastatingly painful, to operate on someone who is so dear to your heart that you would do anything for them,” he mused, knowing fully well that Serena was listening. “I have four children and I didn’t even know it until I was cutting open Evie, and all I could think of was Coco Pops. You were brilliant in theatre today, Serena, and because of you, Bernie will be all right.”

“It was the single most terrifying thing I have done in my life, Raf.”

He put his arm around Serena’s shoulders and brought her closer, “It’s okay, just let it all out.”

The dam broke. She half-turned towards Raf and screamed, all the pain and pent-up fear, all the words she had prepared to tell Bernie since she got the text, all into the shoulder of his scrubs.

It tapered off into soft hiccups eventually; Raf never once left her side.

“She should be in the recovery room by now, go sit with her,” he said while handing her an entire box of tissue to wipe her face.

“I should go and thank Hanssen as well, god knows how long we have been sitting here.” She tried to stand up but only succeed in smacking the top of her head to the underside of the desk.

Raf did a more dignified shuffle forwards and held his hands up to help her up. “While you are at it, why not change into something warmer, you might be staying here for quite a while.”

“Good idea.”

She didn’t put much thought in choosing her outfit today, she was still an on-call consultant first and foremost but she might have subconsciously chosen the bright blue over shirt that seemed to match the colour of the trauma unit scrubs.

The recovery room was free of any staff, she must have gone longer than she thought. Picking up Bernie’s chart from the end of the bed, she saw a post-it note stuck to the inside of the plastic cover.

_Ms Campbell, very well done. – HH_

She shook her head in good nature as she put the note into her trousers’ pocket and sat down on the visitor’s chair. Looking at Bernie lying there, she wondered if that how she looked when she was first repatriated.

“I have a mechanical metronome at home, a remnant of Eleanor’s piano learning past. The whole thing is transparent so you can see the inner workings, Ellie didn’t even have to beg me to buy it, we just got it off the shelf and brought it home. It’s on my bedside table now, playing 76 beats per minute, that’s your resting heartbeat incidentally. I nicked it off your medical notes from when you were first in Holby. I hope you won’t be spooked by it but I needed it, I haven’t been in the same bed as you and I already needed your heartbeat with me.”

She picked up Bernie’s hand again and this time, in the privacy of the room, she allowed herself to press a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Come back to me, Bernie, you promised me.”

She definitely did not imagine the squeeze.

“Yes I did,” came a weak voice.

Travelling up from the hand towards her face, Serena could see Bernie’s eyes blinked slowly.

“Bernie! How are you feeling?” She rested her other hand on Bernie’s head, stroking the silky strands of blonde hair.

“Hmmm, that feels good.” Bernie closed her eyes and smiled.

“Bernie, I am serious, any discomfort?”

“Other than feeling like roadkill, I am fine.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “How is he? Is he alright?”

“Who? You were the only one admitted.” Oh god did someone get hit?

“The fox! Serena, please tell me he is fine.” Bernie both sounded and looked like a child, eyes wide with tears brimming, lips wobbling.

_Oh, Bernie._

“Yes, he is fine but he has left now, maybe he will come back one night and thank you properly. Three wishes, or pledge his life, that sort of things.” She smiled gently, her stroking never ceased.

“No, I don’t want him to pledge his life to me, three wishes sound nice though.” she grinned back cheekily.

Serena’s smile vanished as she sat down on the bed. “Bernie you have terrified the life out of me, and it wasn’t in the good way.”

“Your eyes are all red.”

“Yes, well this will teach you not to ever do that again.” She leant down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Maybe I will be more persuaded if you kiss the right place,” she coaxed, biting her lip.

“If it means I don’t have to operate on you ever again.”

She imagined some grand reunion kiss this morning, completed with passionate embraces but now she only had gratitude poured into the kiss, one hand holding onto Bernie’s, the other gently tracing over her cheekbone. It felt like she was finally home after a day that never seemed to end.

Soon, they were lost in each other until a rattle at the door brought them back to earth. Both of them looked over and saw a startled Morven gesturing wildly before she opened the door.

“I – I am _so_ sorry, I need to do Ms Wolfe’s o – obs, I didn’t m-mean to intrude. _”_

Serena sat up straight but didn’t leave the bed, “It’s fine, Morven, go ahead.”

They sat silently, gazing into each other’s’ eyes. The only sounds in the room were the beeping of the machine and the scratching of pen on paper. When Morven was about to leave them in peace, Serena spoke again.

“Ah yes, Dr Digby, please tell Nurse Fletcher and Mr di Lucca to stop sniggering next time they tried to spy on their bosses.”

Morven smirked before closing the door behind her, “Will do, Ms Campbell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own a transparent metronome, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> A big Thank You to Refreshingly-Original for the input and amazing ideas.
> 
> You can listen to the song here: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfaHZXWV0g8>


End file.
